


Cosplay

by happy_waffles



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Again, Because Fuck It, I did it guys !, I just couldn't think of a better one, I potrayed Mishima's mom as being waaay nicer than she actually is, I said the word dick in an actual fic !, I want Mishima to have nice things ok, M/M, also omigod !!, also sorry for the lame title, by adding some smidges of Akira's perspective, edit - ok I fixed the narrative a bit, maybe now it'll be less confusing lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_waffles/pseuds/happy_waffles
Summary: Mishima asks Akira to do him the favor of dressing up as Joker.





	Cosplay

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized that this is kind of a continuation of that other pegoshima fic I wrote. The one titled "Hawaii."  
> That's where the quote "For you, I just might" is coming from.
> 
> Basically, in the other fic, Akira made a one-off comment about dressing up as Joker for Mishima, and now Mishima can't forget about it. That's all ya need to know, in case you haven't read it.

“For you, I just might.”

These words replay in Mishima’s head over. And over. And over again.

While he’s in class (Mishima gets hit on the head with chalk for that), or on his way home (he walks into a pole like an idiot), or in the shower (a shower in which he slightly burned himself because he was too distracted with his thoughts), or on his bed (while doing some questionable things).

Mishima just couldn’t help it.

He _really_ wants to see Akira cosplaying as Joker.

Mishima would even go as far as saying that he _needs_ to see it.

And that’s why his cursor was currently hovering over the ‘Buy’ button of a (very expensive) Joker cosplay set at 2 in the morning.

 _Should I_...? Mishima asks himself, bitting his bottom lip.

On one hand, he was so, so, _so_ close to finally seeing his dreams in reality (finding a Joker costume that wasn’t a tacky cash grab wasn’t exactly easy, and Akira _had_ offered to wear it), but on the other hand, this meant he wouldn’t have any pocket money for the next two months, which would put a hamper on any date with Akira. It’s not much fun to go to the amusement park and just look around without getting on any of the rides or not eating that generic but familiar concession stand junk food, after all.

Aaaugh, but as much as Mishima liked going on dates with Akira, his desire to see his boyfriend (a word that made Mishima’s heart flutter each time) masquerading as his favorite Phantom Thief member was just as strong. Maybe even stronger.

 _Sorry, Akira_ , Mishima thinks, his finger moving to right-click his mouse. _But I’m desperate_.

The status of the Joker cosplay set goes from ‘Available in stock’ to ‘Sold.’

...

“Yuuki,” Mishima’s mom called out from the base of the stairs, “a package arrived for you!” It was eight in the morning, and a strangely-dressed deliveryman had interrupted her breakfast preparations for something her son had ordered express. She sighs. _More Phantom Thief stuff, isn’t it?_ He was obsessed with them.

Mishima’s eyes popped right open. _Man, when they say they deliver on the same day you order, they really weren’t kidding_. It was worth paying the extra $25 dollars for a speedy delivery, then.

“Coming!” he answers, quickly jamming on his slippers and swinging his bedroom door wide open to rush downstairs.

His mother raises her eyebrows when she sees her son almost trip in his haste to get to her. “Jeez, Yuuki, the package isn’t going anywhere,” she scolds him, handing him the brown box. “What’s in there, anyway?”

As soon as the box was in his hands, Mishima was already speeding up the steps. “Something really important!” he yells over his shoulder.

His mother shakes his head. _Definitely more Phantom Thief stuff_.

Oh well. At least a smile from him was a common thing now---not like before, when he left for school with a grim face and returned with even worse expression, along with new bruises piled up on old ones.

 _I’m glad you found something that makes you happy, Yuuki_ , she thinks, smiling to herself. _As a mother, that’s all I could ever ask for_.

...

Meanwhile, Mishima had carefully opened the box and taken everything out slowly and reverently. Just having the outfit all laid out on his bed was making him giddy. It looked really good (and it’d look better with Akira in it).

To keep himself busy (and calm the tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach), Mishima strokes the fabric of the black coat’s sleeve between his thumb and forefinger while he thinks.

 _Soft_. He rubs it some more. _This stuff is obviously high-quality_.

With Akira being fashionably-conscious, Mishima was sure his boyfriend wouldn’t mind wearing this. Hell, he might even like it. The outfit kind of resembled his style.

Ah, but more importantly, just _how_ exactly was he going to get Akira to wear this?

It was a Sunday morning---too early to ask Akira to come over. He might be still sleeping. He might even already have plans. God, it would be so embarrassing to ask only to get shot down...Maybe it would be better if he just didn’t...

 _Ahh, no!_ Mishima brings his hands down on his cheeks with a resounding slap. _I didn’t buy this costume for Akira_ not _to wear it!_

And with that, Mishima snatches his phone from underneath his pillow and dials Akira’s number (he knows it by heart now) before he loses his nerve again.

One ring. (He feels his heartbeat pounding in his ears.)

Two rings. (Now his palms were getting sweaty).

Three. (Ah, and now he was clenching his teeth).

“...Mm, hello...?” a sleepy, raspy voice answered on the fifth ring. _Finally_.

“Akira!” Mishima’s heart was beating like crazy.

He hears a loud thud followed by “ _Fuck_!”

Mishima winces. “Too loud?”

“Just a little, yeah,” comes Akira’s faraway voice.

“Sorry. I’m just...nervous.”

This piques Akira’s interest. “Nervous about what?” he asks, his voice now closer again.

Mishima doesn’t answer right away, instead opting to fool around with the fabric of his white T-shirt. Asking felt impossible. It felt _embarrassing_. His mouth was dry, and he hadn’t even said anything yet! Could he really do this?

“Yuuki?”

Mishima opens his eyes (he hadn’t even noticed they were closed in the first place). The sweet, caring way Akira was saying his name was chipping away at his unease, and so the phanboy gathers up all his remaining courage again. He’s doing this. He’s _so_ doing this.

“Akira,” he begins a little awkwardly, his mouth still dry, “will you...do me a favor?”

...

“Ooh,” Akira gasps as he enters the Mishima household (Mishima let him in), “are you Yuuki’s mother?” He zips right over to the couch she was sitting in, a bright smile on his face. “It’s my first time seeing you---you look so much like your son. And so young-looking, too!”

Mishima’s mother pauses in her reading to look up, surprised. “Me, young-looking?” She then proceeds to blush and make a happy shooing motion at the raven-haired guest. “Oh my, you’re just flattering me.”

Akira shakes his head energetically. “Trust me, I’m not!” he reassures her. “You can’t be over thirty---I’m sure of it.”

Mishima’s mother starts laughing, putting her book down on her lap. “You’re too much.”

Mishima rolls his eyes. Leave it to Akira to lay on the charm real thick. He pulls on his boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, cutting his self-introduction short. “We don’t have all day,” he grumbles.

“Jeez, _someone’s_ impatient,” Akira teases as he whips his head back to bid Mishima’s mother a hearty goodbye. She waves back just as cheerfully.

Once both boys had safely gone upstairs, she punches the air with her fist.

_Yuuki has a friend!_

This called for a celebration! She quickly springs up from the couch and heads over to the kitchen, intent on making a small feast for the boys.

...

“This actually looks a lot better than I thought it would,” Akira admits, feeling up the fabric of the Joker costume. After Mishima dragged him up the stairs, he was then dragged to his boyfriend’s room and then to his bed. Mishima did a lot of dragging when he was excited---this was something Akira quickly learned.

“Right?” Mishima says smugly, chest puffed out. “I would never have bought it if I didn’t think it was high-quality.”

“Mmm.” Akira starts shrugging off his jacket. “Well then, here I go.”

When Akira starts unbuckling his pants next, Mishima finally understands his intentions.

“Ah, no!” He grabs onto the jean fabric and pulls it up. “Go change in the closet!”

Akira frowns, fighting back against Mishima’s grip. “But that isn’t nearly as much fun as doing a strip-tease!”

Mishima vigorously shakes his head. “I don’t want it!”

“Don’t lie to me, Yuuki,” Akira says bluntly, knocking lightly against his stubborn boyfriend’s forehead. “You’re always begging me to do it.” 

Mishima blushes. “I do not!”

“Not with your mouth, but definitely with your eyes.”

Mishima’s face becomes even hotter. “Shut up!” His grip on Akira’s jeans tightens. “I just...want to do something different...!”

“Oooh?” Akira raises his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“Like...” Mishima pauses to swallow thickly. “Like stripping you...myself...after you’re all done...changing...” _Fuck_ , now his face was on fire.

Akira blinks, watching Mishima’s blush slowly creep onto his neck. “Wait, that almost sounds like...like you want to pretend to de-mask Joker...?”

Mishima says nothing, but from the look of how his ears turned a bright red, the answer was pretty clear.

A grin soon grows on Akira’s lips. “I like that,” he reassuringly tells Mishima, cupping his hands around the embarrassed phanboy’s cheeks. “But if we’re going to do that, then we’re going all the way.”

...

Mishima was laying near the edge of his bed, waiting, his hair slightly brushing against the floor, and wondering what in the _hell_ Akira was up to dashing out of the room with the Joker costume in hand,

when he hears a soft _click_ a few moments later.

Mishima immediately gets up into a sitting position. He takes a good look around, but everything looked still and innocent. _Jeez_ , he thinks, settling back onto the bed, _what’s taking Akira so long?_ And what did he even mean by “going all the way”?

And then _bam!_

A gloved hand clamps around his mouth.

Mishima starts wildly looking around, seeing snippets of black cloth, of an open window, of the color red, and starts preparing to bite and scream when he incidentally looks up into a pair of familiar gray eyes behind a white mask.

But they were also so unfamiliar at the same time. The softness that he was used to seeing was replaced with something else, something more...feral.

“Do you know why I’ve come here?”

Mishima shakes his head, a shiver running down his spine. Akira---no, _Joker_ \---was speaking in such a deep, _deep_ voice, a voice Mishima didn’t know he even had in the first place but knew fit him all the same.

“I want”---here, Joker’s free hand starts trailing down Mishima’s exposed neck---“to thank my number one fan for all his hard work.”

 _Shit_. Those were the very words he always fantasied about hearing, words that went straight to his eager dick.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joker, whose eyes sharply take in how strained the groin area of Mishima’s jeans were becoming and whose heart showed a flash of jealously before being quickly snuffed out. He presses a gloved finger down, teasingly rubbing the growing tent with just his index finger.

Mishima starts letting out muffled gasps into Joker’s gloved hand, the one still holding his mouth shut.

Joker slowly keeps adding fingers until finally, _finally_ he uses his whole hand to rub Mishima with, making the phanboy’s jeans become unbearingly tight.

“You’re getting really wet from just my hand,” came the phantom leader’s sensual whisper. “Just look.”

Using the hand around Mishima’s mouth to move the phanboy’s head, Joker forces him to look at the sight of his own tent sporting a growing wet spot.

“Did you get even bigger just now?” Joker asks, amused.

Mishima answers by rubbing against the phantom leader’s hand, desperate for some more friction.

“Tsk, tsk, my dear fanboy,” Joker chides, taking his hand away, much to Mishima’s dismay. “I’ll make you feel good, but _only_ if you behave.”

“I’ll...behave!” Mishima desperately gasps out. He then kisses the palm of Joker’s gloved hand to prove his sincerity, making Joker's heart both dance and sink.

"Good.” Thankfully, Joker’s hand was back on his erection. “You’re so submissive, it’s cute.” He starts unzipping the phanboy’s jeans. “I’m guessing you’re an M, aren’t you?”

Mishima shakes his head, blushing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Joker strokes Mishima’s clothed erection deliciously hard, forcing Mishima to bite down on his lips to muffle the incoming moan. “See? You’re definitely an M.”

“Which is good,” Joker continues, his voice dropping again and his lips teasingly brushing against the underwear that was growing wetter by the second, “because I enjoy seeing the lewd expressions people make when I _break_ them.” He seals this statement with an open-mouthed kiss on the very tip of Mishima’s throbbing dick, riling his phanboy up even more when his scalding hot tongue begins to lap at the wet fabric.

Mishima can’t take it anymore---he cums right then and there, right into his underwear, right onto Joker’s awaiting lips. He can _feel_ Joker’s smile burn into his memory, into his very flesh.

Laughing softly, Joker licks his lips and slides a finger and thumb into the wet underwear to stroke the skin underneath. Mishima shivers. “How thick,” Joker openly comments, bringing out his fingers to reveal them to be a sticky and wet white. “Have you not been jerking off?”

Mishima hides his face behind his arm. “I’ve been too busy...”

“Hmm? With what?”

“With updating the....Phansite...”

Upon hearing this, Joker’s face softens. “You really are devoted to us, aren’t you?”

Mishima nods without hesitation. “To you, especially,” he shyly adds.

This admission makes Joker take a slight pause. _To me...or to Joker?_ he finds himself thinking before quickly shaking it off.

The phantom leader then smiles. “Well, I’m a fan of you, too. Your site helps us out a bunch, you know?”

“R-Really...?”

“Yes.” Joker starts kissing Mishima’s stomach, his kisses trailing down all the way back to the phanboy’s dick, which was throbbing again. “Really.”

Before Mishima could further respond, Joker then uses his teeth to slide Mishima’s soaked underwear off, causing the boy’s renewed erection to pop free.

Joker stares admiringly at it. “Nice,” he whistles.

Mishima just covers his face in embarrassment.

“No need to be so shy,” Joker laughs.

“How can I not,” Mishima mumbles against his hands, “when _I’m_ so exposed and you’re so... _not_?!”

It was true: compared to Joker, Mishima was practically half-naked. Although, admittedly, the power imbalance there was a huge turn-on. But wasn’t the point of all this to allow Mishima to pretend to demask Joker? _That_ scenario sure as hell hasn’t turned up in their little session yet. He didn't mind this change of plans too much, though...Being mercilessly teased by his favorite Phantom leader was just as nice.

Instead of the witty comeback Mishima was expecting from Joker, he gets something else:

“Do you really want to see underneath my mask that badly?”

The way in which this question was said---with such a heavy and nervous weight to the words---made Mishima take his hands off his face. _Why do you sound so serious?_

“Akir---?”

He’s cut off with an aggressive kiss. Joker doesn’t give him time to speak, to think, to even breathe---Mishima’s drowning in that hot tongue of his, in the rough strokes of his hand, in those unreadable gray eyes.

When he does finally break away for air, Joker rests his head against Mishima’s chest, his hand pausing in its stroking motions.

“Would you even like me without my mask on?” he softly mouths against the phanboy’s white T-shirt after a few moments. “Isn’t the person you like Joker and not... _me?_ ”

Mishima doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s sure of one thing: Akira wasn’t roleplaying anymore. Or maybe he never was.

So he reaches his hands out to cup Akira’s cheeks, positioning their faces so that they were looking eye-to-eye. “Akira.” Upon hearing his name, Akira flinches. Mishima just stares.

 “Are you stupid?”

Akira pouts. “I’m being serious here.”

“I am, too.” He strokes Akira’s cheeks with his thumbs. “The reason I’m enjoying this so much is because _you’re_ the one under the mask. I’m not pretending that you’re Joker...to me, you already _are_ him.” Mishima moves his arms to wrap them around Akira’s neck and bring him in close for a hug. “Because _you’re_ my hero.”

And it certainly was true. It was _Akira_ , not Joker, that pulled Mishima aside after having been hit directly in the face by Kamoshida's head spike to ask him if he was ok; it was Akira who gave him the courage to stand up against Kamoshida and call him out on his abuse; and it was Akira, he was _sure_ of it, who put Kamoshida in his place.

It takes Akira a few moments to respond, but when he finally does, he tightly hugs Mishima back. “You can take off my mask, if you want,” he murmurs into Mishima’s ear, the tips of his own ears red.

The phanboy smiles. “Good.”

And so he does, revealing Akira’s face to be a blushing mess.

“This is a good look for you.”

“Shutup.” But there’s a smile in his eyes. “Just strip me already.”

“Gladly.”

...

“Maybe I got a little _too_ carried away,” Mishima’s mother says, hand on her face, looking at the many plates of food she made piled sky-high on the table.

She quickly waves this off, though. “Teenagers usually have a big appetites---I’m sure Yuuki and his friend will eat more than enough. And whatever’s left I can use as dinner for tomorrow.”

And with that settled, she heads upstairs to knock on Yuuki’s room. “Yuuki?” No answer. _Are they not there?_

And just as she was about to slide the door open, she hears rustling and hushed voices.

“ _Ohmygod_ , I forgot my mom was here.”

“Wait, Yuuki, that’s my shirt.”

“Oh shit, sorry---”

Huh? Why did it matter whose shirt was whose...and why did Yuuki sound so panicked...?

And then, everything clicked.

 _Yuuki has a boyfriend!_ Mishima’s mother backs up from the door, hands covering her mouth. That’s...That’s...

 _So unexpected_ , she admits. But to think her son managed to snag someone as good-looking as the raven-haired guest---who called her young, by the way--- _He gets full points from me_ , she thinks, smiling.

She was going to have to give them the... _talk_...later, though.

But for now, she’ll leave her son alone to enjoy time with his boyfriend.

He did deserve it, after all.


End file.
